Breaking the Habit
by FallenAngelOfInnocence
Summary: He was inside a cage, behind iron bars, kicking at them and hitting them until his fists would bleed. No one could help him. A dark songfic to Linkin Park's Breaking the Habit


Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and works or this song.

A/N: I wrote this tonight. It's currently 9:43 p.m. and I think I'm going to cry. You'll find out why. Another dark fic. Please read and review. 

Breaking The Habit

Memories consume

Like opening the wound

I'm picking me apart again

You all assume

I'm safe here in my room

(Unless I try to start again)

            It was late. Everyone was asleep. Everyone but him. He sat in his four-poster bed, wide awake, looking at the broken shards of mirror in his hands. A silent tear fell from his eye and hit the glass, splattering itself across the broken picture of his face. His best friends had stopped him before. A few times. The first time, they'd been confused. The second time, they'd started to realize. But even they knew they'd never be able to understand what he was feeling. They'd tried to take his mind off of it all. They'd tried to distract him. Tried to bring him back. But they couldn't. No one could. Because no one could possibly understand. 

I don't want to be the one

The battles always choose

'Cause inside I realize

That I'm the one confused

            He was tired of losing. He was tired of losing family and friends. He was tired of hurting all the time. It seemed like everything happened to him. He'd lost his birth parents, his godfather and only real father figure he'd ever had, and he'd lost friends. And after the death of Remus Lupin, he's lost his faith. Faith in his hopes, faith in his dreams, faith in his prayers, faith in his friends...faith in himself. He hated being the hero. He hated all the pressure he felt all the time because he knew that so many people, so many lives, were depending on him. They had faith in him to save them. That was why it hurt so much more whenever he couldn't save someone. Whenever he got there too late, or wasn't quick enough, or made a mistake… That was how he'd lost Sirius. He didn't want to lose anyone else. He didn't want to risk it. What if he made another mistake? Who would he lose then? 

I don't know what's worth fighting for

Or why I have to scream

I don't know why I instigate

And say what I don't mean

I don't know how I got this way

I know it's not alright

So I'm

Breaking the habit

Breaking the habit

Tonight

            He slowly reached over and picked up a piece of the mirror. He held it so gently, as though he might lose again if he didn't do everything perfectly. He looked at the broken shard and saw half of his face. The moonlight from the window by his bed shone on it and picked out the detailing of his mess of ebony hair. It made his magically emerald eyes shimmer, seem alive. It ran along his face, along his strong jaw line and down his nose, across his lips. He moved the piece of mirror over and looked at the other side of his face. The moonlight didn't reach it and it was covered in shadows. It made his green eyes seem dark, lifeless. His face was dark and his cheeks seemed hollow. His lips looked thinner. He didn't look strong at all. He looked frail, and defeated. Like his reflections, so was his life: one side of him, the side everyone else saw, was alive and strong and alert. Ready for anything. The Hero. The other side, the side no one saw, was dying and weak and hopeless. Ready to let go. The Failure.

Clutching my cure

I tightly lock the door

I try to catch my breath again

I hurt much more

Than anytime before

I had no options left again

            And now that side was starting to make its way out into the open, for all eyes to see. But it was moving slowly. He wanted to feel exposed, he wanted everyone to see what was wrong with him, wanted them to finally understand as much as they could. He wanted that side of him to get out. Because now, that _was_ him. He was inside a cage, behind iron bars, kicking at them and hitting them until his fists would bleed. He was screaming at the top of his lungs for help and trying to unlock the chains around the cage. But no one could see the cage. No one could see his bloody hands and knuckles, his bruised arms and fists. No one had a key for the chains. No one could hear him screaming. But it didn't  matter anymore, 'cause after tonight, he wouldn't be screaming anymore.

I don't want to be the one

The battles always choose

'Cause inside I realize

That I'm the one confused

            He looked down at the broken mirror, reflecting the moonlight onto his face in a broken pattern of a pure stained glass design. He remembered that mirror. He had broken it in his fifth year after he'd lost Sirius. He'd tried to use it, tried to talk to his godfather one last time, but it didn't work. So now he held it in his hands, slender and strong: seeker's hands. His father's hands. He thought of his father and mother and how much he'd wished to see them again. He'd be seeing them soon. And Sirius too. He could see them all: James waving and smiling; Lily smiling with joyous tears in her eyes, arms open wide in welcome; Remus standing slightly behind everyone else and smiling; and Sirius. He saw Sirius as the first to reach him, as Snuffles, loping towards him, wagging his tail excitedly, his tongue hanging out of his mouth. Yes. That was the family he'd always wanted and hoped for. And they were perfect. He could finally leave his eternal darkness and live happily in their light.

I don't know what's worth fighting for

Or why I have to scream

I don't know why I instigate

And say what I don't mean

I don't know how I got this way

I'll never be alright

So I'm

Breaking the habit

Breaking the habit

Tonight

            He looked over at Ron's bed. He was snoring lightly as he slept, completely oblivious to his best friend's thoughts and feelings. He was going to miss Ron. He was like the brother he'd never had. He would always remember the times they'd shared together and how Ron had always been there for him. No matter how dangerous the adventure, Ron was always at his side, no questions asked. And Hermione. He would always remember her as well. From her bushy brown hair to her fiery temper, everything about her he would miss. She had always been there for him as well, for both of them, the brains of the operation, whatever it may be. Always choosing the safest route or logical path. But even Hermione would put her books and notes aside when the real danger came. They were all there for each other, no matter what, but he was afraid that he _wouldn't_ always be there. That one time, he might be too late. Memories flashed before his eyes of all the times they'd had together. He saw them sneaking into the library's restricted section or to Hagrid's cabin under his dad's old invisibility cloak. He saw the three of them in their first year, fighting off a full-grown mountain troll in a girls' washroom. He saw himself and Ron a thousand feet in the air, driving an invisible car and looking for the Hogwarts Express. He saw them in their second year, mixing a Polyjuice Potion in an unused girls' washroom. He saw Moaning Myrtle punching Ron through the head and stomach. He saw Ron squeaking about spiders in the Forbidden Forest in their second year. He saw Ron clinging to Scabbers for dear life in the Shrieking Shack in their third year. He saw Ron and Hermione tied to the bottom of the lake in their fourth year. He saw himself and Ron sitting, bored, at the Yule Ball. He saw the three of them looking fearfully up in the sky at the Dark Mark at the Quidditch World Cup. He saw Ron giggling like a fool in their fifth year after the strange things in the tank at the Department of Mysteries had attacked him. He saw the three of them sitting by the lake in the hot sun, relaxing after exams. He saw the three of them in the hospital wing, laughing as Ron made 'clip-clop' noises with his tongue to scare the willies out of Professor Umbridge. He saw the Gryffindor Quidditch team holding Ron on their shoulders after they won the Quidditch Cup. He saw Ron's face paling to no end as he opened the Howler from his mother in their second year. He saw the three of them in Hagrid's cabin the same year, rubbing Ron's back as he spit up slugs. He saw the three of them in Hagrid's cabin in their first year, staring in wonder at his illegal baby Norwegian Ridgeback dragon named Norbert. He saw them all screaming at the tops of their lungs in first year as well, after harmlessly opening a door to find a giant three-headed dog looking back at them. He saw Ron diving to save Scabbers from "certain death" by Crookshanks. He saw himself and Ron watching in shock and awe as Hermione marched up to Malfoy and smacked him 'round the face in their third year. He saw the three of them laughing hysterically in their fourth year when Professor Moody turned Malfoy into a ferret and bounced him down the hallway. He saw Ron's head lolling back and forth as he battled with all the strength he could muster within himself to stay awake through History of Magic. He saw Hermione smacking him upside the head to wake him up. He saw himself tickling his ear with the end of his quill after he fell asleep again. He saw himself comforting Ron when his little sister, Ginny, was taken into the Chamber of Secrets. He saw himself and Ron screaming like little girls as Mr. Weasley's car and themselves were tossed about and smashed by the Whomping Willow in their second year. He saw himself and Ron leaping to their feet as Hermione ran towards them, finally cured after being Petrified by the Basilisk. He saw them rolling around in the snow together after a snowball fight out on the grounds. He saw them all hugging at the end of another school year. The floodgates broke, and the tears burst from his eyes and streamed down his face as though they would never stop. He was definitely going to miss his best friends.

I'll paint it on the walls

'Cause I'm the one at fault

I'll never fight again

And this is how it ends

            He pushed up his sleeves and took a deep breath. He needed to do this. He carefully picked up another shard of the broken mirror, the biggest he could find. The tears were still rushing down his face, seeming to have no end. He'd held it in for years. Now it was finally getting out. He placed the shard on his left wrist and closed his eyes, causing a gush of tears to fall. _Goodbye Ron. _He pushed down. He felt the glass slip between the tender flesh and he slid the shard all the way up his forearm. He felt the warm crimson blood cascade over the sides of the long gash and run down his arm. He opened his eyes and placed the shard on his right wrist. _Goodbye Hermione._ He closed his eyes again and a quick sob escaped his lips before once again he pushed down and slid the piece of broken glass effortlessly through the delicate skin and up his forearm. He opened his eyes again and the shard fell from his trembling fingertips. His lips were quivering with his silent cries and sobs. He looked at his arms and saw the long cuts that he had made. His blood ran from the deep wounds and covered his hands and sheets. The blood on the sheets was mixed with his tears that continued to pour from his eyes. He didn't feel the pain, no matter how intense and severe it became. Because no physical pain could ever compare to the heart wrenching torment that he'd felt grow stronger everyday for the past seventeen years. He lay back down and pulled his covers up. He slid his arms under the blankets and looked up at the ceiling. He smiled. To everyone else, the slashes on his arms were deep wounds that would kill him. To him, they were wings to help him fly away and out of the darkness of his world. He closed his eyes and peacefully fell asleep.

I don't know what's worth fighting for

Or why I have to scream

But now I have some clarity

To show you what I mean

I don't know how I got this way

I'll never be alright

So I'm

Breaking the habit

Breaking the habit

            Everyone awoke the next morning to the sound of Hermione Granger's blood curdling screams echoing throughout the castle and grounds. She fainted and collapsed to the floor. Ronald Weasley fell to his knees, tears streaking down his colorless face, and was sick on the floor before starting to dangerously hyperventilate. They had come to surprise their best friend for Christmas. By his bed was a note for them, written in his neatest handwriting: _Never fly faster than your Guardian Angel. How do you expect me to protect you if I fall out of the sky due to unpracticed wings?_

Harry James Potter, son and only child of Lily Evans and James Potter, godson of Sirius Black, hero of the Wizarding world, and The-Boy-Who-Lived, was dead. 

The whole world cried.

Breaking the habit

Tonight 


End file.
